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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743744">Ticklish Griffin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redreaper86/pseuds/redreaper86'>redreaper86</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Original Sinners - Tiffany Reisz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Safeword Use, Teasing, Tickle torture, Tickling, catholic jokes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redreaper86/pseuds/redreaper86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Soren always says Griffin acts like a child. After Griffin gets on his last nerve, the priest finally decides to treat him like one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Griffin Fiske/Soren Magnussen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ticklish Griffin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I picture Griffin as a young Colin Farrell, Kingsley as an older Gaspard Ulliel and Soren as Mads Mikkelsen just as he is. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Well, <i>mon ami</i>," Kingsley Edge let out something between a chuckle and a sigh, the force of breath brightening the end of the cigarette held between his sensually sculpted lips. "You're really going to get it now."</p><p>The individual addressed by the King of the Underground was none other than Griffin Fiske, New York's richest trust fund baby, who, wearing nothing but leather booty shorts, was manacled by his wrists and ankles to a table in the middle of the Eighth Circle, the most hardcore S&amp;M club in the city. </p><p>"Why does the priest have it out for me, King?" Griffin whined, writhing in his bonds for show, Kingsley's black eyes glittering appreciatively as he did. "What did I ever do to him?"</p><p>The Frenchman chuckled. "You are eating this up, <i>mon petite cher</i>. You love the attention."</p><p>"Not from the big bad pope of hell, I don't."</p><p>Kingsley opened his mouth to reply then stepped back as someone else took his place. A tall blond man in black loomed over Griffin like an avenging archangel.</p><p>"A splendid sobriquet, Griffin." Soren said, his pale eyes perusing the younger man’s body with cold amusement. "Did you lie awake all night to think of it?"</p><p>"When I'm awake all night I'm usually doing something other than thinking," Griffin responded, sounding more flippant than he felt. A horrible shiver of glee zapped through Griffin's insides. Had he really just dissed the pope? Out loud? Surely not! But the priest's icy smirk told him otherwise.</p><p>"I'm going to enjoy breaking you, little boy," Soren sneered, ghosting his fingertips along Griffin's jawline. "It's merely a matter of method."</p><p>"You gonna spank me, Daddy?" Griffin quipped then winced inwardly. What was <i>wrong</i> with him? Did he have a death-wish? "Oops," he added coyly.  "I mean <i>Father</i>." Yup. Definitely a death-wish.</p><p>"I am not going to hurt you, my beloved little Griffin."</p><p>"Nice of you."</p><p>"No. You are not worthy of the joys of suffering. The  punishment I am going to inflict..." -- here the priest's chiseled lips quivered in the half-light and Griffin felt a body part of his own follow suit -- "...will not hurt you."</p><p>"Where's the fun in that?"</p><p>"It will humiliate you...greatly."</p><p>"Now that's more like it --"</p><p>"Can you guess, Griffin, how I will be torturing you?"</p><p>"Talking me to death?"</p><p>The priest laid his hand gently on Griffin's stomach. "Guess again."</p><p>Griffin's dark eyes widened in horror. "Don't!"</p><p>Soren canted his beautiful blond head. Then he delved all five of his long powerful fingers into Griffin's chiseled abdomen. To say that the five-foot ten, two hundred pound trust fund baby shrieked was an understatement.</p><p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, <i>mon cher</i>," Kingsley chuckled from the depths of his wineglass. "I felt things tremble."</p><p>"Thank you for that, Kingsley." Soren said, deadpan. Then sweetly: "Now, Griffin?"</p><p>"Ugh, what?"</p><p>Soren viciously pinched one of Griffin's rock-hard abs which turned out to be not so rock-hard after all, eliciting a gurgled curse followed by high-pitched giggling that would have made Griffin the laughingstock of the Underground had any of the submissives in the Eighth Circle heard him. Lucky for him, only King was here to witness his humiliation -- and the Frenchman loved to hold on to blackmail fodder such as this. Griffin winced to think of all the boot-licking he would have to do just to keep King from telling Nora, who of course would tell Mick, who would take advantages of his beloved's weakness every chance he got. Mick had grown into a very tease-y sub, it was a wonder he hadn't figured out how ticklish Griffin was on his own yet. The priest seemed to read his thoughts:</p><p>"I wonder what Michael would do if he could see you now." Soren traced a path from Griffin's chest to his navel, mixing sweat beads as he did. "What do you think, Griffin?"</p><p>"I -- <i>gah</i> -- I can't --"</p><p>"There are many things you are incapable of, little boy," Soren said, not unkindly as he dipped his index finger into Griffin's navel and began scratching his nail there so gently that Griffin lost all vocal capabilities -- he could do naught but writhe uselessly. "The list is so very long -- perhaps you could enlighten me as to what it is you can't do?"</p><p>"Ca-han't...brea-heathe..." Griffin wheezed.</p><p>"Can't you?" Soren began delicately dancing his fingertips over Griffin's heaving belly, eliciting so many varied chords from his victim that he might have been playing piano. "Your lungs seem to be working, Griffin. They are inflating and deflating, deflating and inflating..."</p><p>They certainly were -- sucking in until Griffin's waist was impossibly tiny, puffing out until it ballooned like a glutton's -- the priest taking full advantage of both extremes.</p><p>Griffin couldn't take it anymore. "Platypus!" he wailed, tears streaming down his temples.</p><p>Soren raised his hands in mocking surrender.</p><p>Kingsley checked his pocket watch. "Seven minutes, <i>mon ami</i>. You owe me twenty bucks."</p><p>The priest tossed the bill over his shoulder to the Frenchman, then he leaned over Griffin with the benevolence of a forgiving father to a chastened child. </p><p>"You did well, Griffin."</p><p>Griffin sniffed and blinked his tear-sodden lashes. "I did?"</p><p>Soren chuckled. "I just said you did, you ridiculous child," he teased, chucking Griffin under the chin. "Now, what do you want for aftercare?"</p><p>Griffin stopped himself just in time from repeating the priest's question and instead, like the little rich brat that he was, demanded for Soren to feed him greasy food, give him a bubble bath and sing him a lullaby "in his pretty priest voice."</p><p>Soren rolled his eyes to the heavens. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" the priest demanded of God in an injured tone.</p><p>He got no sympathy from either the Frenchman or the trust fund baby, who both burst out laughing.</p><p>"Oh, come on, Your Blond Holiness," Griffin laughed as Soren hefted him over his shoulder like the proverbial cross he was. "It'll be fun. Just close your eyes and pretend I'm a way muscleyier version of Nora. With short hair. And a penis."</p><p>"You are nothing like Eleanor," Soren sighed as he carried Griffin to the priest's private quarters. </p><p>"Having actually finished college, she knows 'muscleyier' is not a word."</p>
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